


Wise No More

by LeoArcana



Series: Prompts [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dentistry, Dentists, Drugged Dean, Flustered Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoArcana/pseuds/LeoArcana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d come here, to a dentist office, after Dean had been complaining about his jaw hurting.  He’d tried to play it off, say it was nothing or that a monster had just hit him real hard.  But weeks later, the pain hadn’t subsided.  It had only gotten worse.  It was giving him headaches, eating hurt, any drink too hot or too cold hurt, touching his jaw or cheekbones hurt…<br/>“So, you still have your wisdom teeth?” the assistant asked.<br/>“Guess so,” Dean shrugged.<br/>He’d heard that a majority of people had them removed, but sometimes people never got them in the first place.  He just guessed he was one of those people.  But now, looking at the screen, he was very clearly not one of those people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been wanting to do a fic like this for a while and found a prompt this morning

Sam shifted restlessly for the umpteenth time, leaning forward to glance down the hallway.  There was still no sign of Dean.  They’d come here, to a dentist office, after Dean had been complaining about his jaw hurting.  He’d tried to play it off, say it was nothing or that a monster had just hit him real hard.  But weeks later, the pain hadn’t subsided.  It had only gotten worse.  It was giving him headaches, eating hurt, any drink too hot or too cold hurt, touching his jaw or cheekbones hurt… 

Sam suggested that he just ask Castiel to heal him, but Dean refused.  He didn’t want Castiel to use his fading grace to fix something that was probably easy.  Sam tried to argue that point, that it was easy and wouldn’t cost Castiel much, if anything at all.  Still, Dean refused.  They bickered back and forth until a fresh wave of pain had Dean shutting up and conceding to going to a dentist. 

Dean had been grumpy and silent in the waiting room, only lighting up when a twenty-something assistant came out to the lobby and called his name.  He gladly followed the young assistant with Sam right behind him.  She asked about the pain, how long it hurt, if anything had happened, what set it off, where it hurt.  Then she asked Sam to step out of the room so she could take x-rays.  Those had been unpleasant.  Not because of how she did it, but because of the x-rays themselves.  She apologized for the discomfort, but she said she had to do them so the dentist could see all of the teeth, roots included, to diagnose what was wrong.

Sam poked his head in the room after the fourth x-ray and she said it was alright to come back in.  The computer screen showed four different pictures.

“So, you still have your wisdom teeth?” the assistant asked.

“Guess so,” Dean shrugged.

He’d heard that a majority of people had them removed, but sometimes people never got them in the first place.  He just guessed he was one of those people.  But now, looking at the screen, he was very clearly not one of those people.

“I’m not the dentist, so I’m not diagnosing you,” the assistant said, “But it looks like your wisdom teeth are pretty obviously the problem.”

She couldn’t have been more right.  All four wisdom teeth were impacted and crooked, angling themselves at the teeth in front and shoving hard against the roots.  The dentist had come in a minute later and told his basically just that.  His only option was to have them extracted and it had to be soon, preferably now.  If he didn’t get them removed soon, he’d have a lot more problems on his hands and could possibly end up losing more teeth and some bone.

The dentist told his assistant to get the consent papers and explain the numbing options, then set the room up for extraction.  She came back with a few papers, the first one asking for Dean’s consent to do the surgery.  The others were about the different options of numbing.

“If you want, the dentist can do just anesthesia.  You’ll be completely coherent during and after the procedure,” the assistant said, “It’s the cheapest, but a lot of people really can’t stand the sound.”

Cheap was a good option.  They didn’t have insurance, obviously.  But they also didn’t like stealing more money off credit cards of innocent people than they had to.  But the sound?

“What sound?” Dean asked.

The assistant clicked her tongue and tipped her head to the side, thinking of how to explain it without making it sound terrifying.  With what she knew was necessary, there wasn’t an easy way to say it.

“You can just tell me, I don’t scare easy,” Dean winked.

She laughed and shook her head with a sigh.

“Alright, the dentist will have to cut into your gums to access the bone,” she started, “That sound mostly people can handle.  Then he’ll have to cut into the bone because of how impacted your teeth are, that’s where people start losing it.  If people have had fillings the past, they can knuckle through it.  Following that, it’s the sound of bone cracking and breaking, along with all the nerves in the tooth snapping.  It’s very loud, because it’s in the bone so close to your ears.”

That sent a shiver down Dean’s spine.  He had broken bones before, but they’d broken quick.  He never had to listen to them break slowly and close to his ears.

“And your bones could require contouring, following the extraction,” she added, “Filling and more cutting.”

“What’s option two?” Dean asked.

“Anesthesia with nitrous,” she replied, “It’ll still all be the same, but you’ll be high enough during the procedure to not care.  Afterwards, we’ll flush the nitrous from you system with oxygen, but you may still be loopy afterwards.”

Dean saw a third paper; a third option.

“And three?”

“IV sedation.  We’ll knock you out and you’ll be completely unaware of everything, and nitrous will be used to help put you under,” she replied, “But you won’t be able to do anything following the sedation, you’ll need someone to drive you home and make sure you stay awake for several hours after.”

“And what do you suggest?”

“It’s up to you,” she shrugged, “Personally, I’m glad I had sedation when I got mine out.”

“Alright, uh, let’s go with that then,” Dean half-grinned, “Knock me out.”

He handed him the consent for the sedation to read over in detail and left to get the necessary equipment.  When she started bringing things in, she told Sam he’d have to wait out in the lobby.  The room would get too cramped with everything needed and an unnecessary body. 

 

And that was the last he’d seen of Dean.  It had been almost two hours now and worry was starting to gnaw at him.  He fidgeted a bit and went up to the front desk.

“Hey, um, I’m just wondering how much longer until my brother’s done?” Sam asked.

“Let me go see,” the front desk lady replied.

She disappeared down the hallway and came back a few seconds later.

“They’re almost done, they’re just taking a couple x-rays to make sure they’ve got all of the tooth and roots out.  The sutures will only take them a minute, then it’s just pulling him out of sedation.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He retreated back to his seat and bounced his leg waiting.  Several more minutes ticked by, then he could hear heavy footsteps stumbling down the hallway.  He leaned forward again to see the assistant helping a very groggy and drugged up Dean down the hallway.  She led him to a chair in the hallway just before the lobby, nodding along when he mumbled something incoherent.  Dean leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and letting his jaw fall slack.  The assistant very quickly, knelt down and put a hand to his chin to make him close his mouth again, reminding him to keep it closed to hold the gauze.  He nodded dumbly and slumped back, almost pouting.

The assistant straightened up and motioned for Sam to come over.

“So, it was a bit more complicated than originally planned.  There’s quite a bit of trauma to both his jaw and maxilla.  He’s going to be very sore for a couple days, so the dentist has prescribed a few pain medications and antibiotics,” she said, “The dentist says to get them filled right away and for the first dose of pain killers, take double what it says.  But only for the first dose, then do as instructed.”

Sam listened to her as she explained the things Dean was allowed and not allowed to do, occasionally glancing down at his dazed brother.  He wasn’t allowed to have alcohol, that’d probably be the hardest rule to follow.  No drinking through straws, no solid food for the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours, nothing hot or cold.  Gently, _very_ gently rinse with warm salt water, change the gauze when they got home and as needed after that.  There were a few other things, but Sam was distracted by Dean slowly starting to slide over in his seat.  The assistant gave him a paper with all the instructions and scheduled a post-op check and suture removal for Dean in a couple weeks.

“Where are they…?” Dean slurred.

“Where’s what?” Sam asked.

“Those lil sons a bishes…” Dean grumbled, the gauze and swelling hindering his speech.               

“What?”

“You want your teeth?” the assistant asked.

Dean nodded with as much energy as he could manage.

“Are you allowed to?” Sam asked.

“Yep, I just have to clean them up first.”

“They don’t deserf t’be cleaned,” Dean mumbled.

The assistant rolled her eyes with a smirk and went to get them.  She came back a few minutes later with the teeth in a bag and handed them to Sam.  Before he even got to look at them, Dean was fumbling and snatching them from Sam.  He glared down at them; three of them had been cut into three sections, the fourth one was only cut into two.  Sam remembered how they’d looked in the x-ray pictures and cringed at the thought of cutting them out like that.

Dean cursed at them and shoved them back at Sam— well, more like he half-heartedly threw them at him.  The assistant gave Sam a card to remind of Dean’s follow up appointment and dismissed them.

Sam practically dragged Dean back out to the impala and had to get Dean’s limp body in the car.  Dean tried to buckle himself, but was getting nowhere fast.  Sam did it for him and went around to the driver’s side.  He had his choice of pharmacies to get Dean’s prescriptions filled out; they were in Wichita now and had a ways back to the bunker.  They had been in Wichita finishing up a hunt and figured they may as well go to the first dentist they saw, not knowing the work that was going to be needed.

Dean was slumped against the door, flicking at the window crank and looking like it was a struggle to stay awake.  Sam kept peeking over at him to make sure he stayed awake, deciding to wait until Lebanon to have the prescriptions filled.  If Dean could make it through a couple hours without falling asleep, he’d be fine to leave for a few minutes.

When they finally did stop, Sam was still quick to get in and out of the local grocery store.  He came back with Dean’s drugs and a bottle of water.  The dentist had given Dean three drugs to take and Sam read over them quickly, only looking at their dosages.  He dumped double the dosage of pain killers into his hand and the regular amount of antibiotics, then handed them to Dean to take with the water.

Dean stared at the pills with a furrowed brow and used his other hand to find where his mouth was; his entire jaw was still very numb.  He dropped two pills in his attempt to throw them back and bumped his head against the dash when he leaned forward to find them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam laughed.

He tapped replacements out of the bottle and handed them to Dean, not seeing he’d found the lost ones.  Dean took the four of them and tried to take a drink of water to wash everything down.  He ended up dribbling half the water out.  Sam snorted and bit his lip as Dean turned to him with a tired glare.

Sam started the car and headed back to the bunker, still checking on Dean every couple minutes.  The tired anger was ebbing from Dean’s face, going blank, then turning to curiosity and confusion.  Sam raised his eyebrows, wondering if this was about to turn into a ‘David after dentist’ situation.  As soon as he parked outside the bunker, he had his answer.    

“Is that a hobbit hole?” Dean asked.

“Uh, no, it’s the bunker.  Where we live,” Sam answered.

Dean only heard half of that.

“We live in a hobbit hole?!” Dean beamed.

He sat up straight and fumbled with his seat belt.  Sam scratched the side of his face, trying to hide his amusement before fishing out his phone and holding it up to record. 

Dean grumbled in frustration at the seatbelt, but managed to get it undone and flung the door open in excitement.  He scrambled out and tripped over his feet, hitting the ground hard.  Sam cursed and got out, running around to the other side.  But Dean wasn’t discouraged by the fall and was up on his feet by the time Sam got to him; albeit very dizzy.

Dean staggered to the entrance of the bunker, Sam hovering around him in case he fell again.  Dean jiggled at the door handle, whining when it didn’t open.  Sam brushed him aside and unlocked the door and opened it.  Dean stumbled over the threshold and caught himself on the handrail of the staircase.  He stopped and stared at everything in the bunker like a child in an amusement park.

“This is so cool!” Dean whisper-yelled, “It’s way bigger than a hobbit hole, like that— that porta-potty phone thing Charlie talks about!”

“The TARDIS…?” Sam guessed.

“Yeah, but cooler!”

Dean hurried down the stairs, more eager to explore the bunker than when they’d found it.  Sam trailed after him, wondering how strong of an effect the pain killers were supposed to have.  Dean rifled through everything, holding up small books and papers, fiddling with small weapons left out.  Sam was quick to take those away.

“Dude, has Cas seen this?  This is amazing,” Dean gaped, “Cas!  Cas, man, you gotta see this!”

“Dean, he’s seen this before,” Sam laughed.

“How?  Is he psychic?  Oh my god, he is psychic he reads people’s minds all the time.”

“I don’t do it all the time,” Cas defended suddenly.

Dean whirled around too fast, making himself dizzy again and stumbling into a table.  Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean and turned to Sam.

“What’s wrong with him?  Has he experimented with drugs again?” Cas asked.

“No, he— Again?  Nevermind.  No, he got his wisdom teeth pulled and is on pain medication,” Sam answered.

Dean regained his balance and started towards Cas.

“How’d you get here so fast?” Dean asked.

“I flew,” Cas replied simply, “And the front door was still open.”

Dean didn’t reply, he hadn’t even listened to Cas’ answer.  He crept a little closer to Cas, staring at him in confusion and slight awe.

“Dude, your eyes are _so blue_ ,” Dean murmured.

“Yes, Jimmy did have blue eyes,” Cas stated.

“No, they’re like…. _blue_.  Sam, have you seen this?” Dean asked, “Look, they’re like the bluest thing ever!”

Sam snickered, making sure his phone was still recording Dean.

“Yeah, bluest thing ever,” Sam agreed.

“No, no, Sam!  Come look!” Dean pleaded, “They’re so blue and beautiful, like— like an angel or something!”

Sam bit his lip, trying and failing to keep from laughing.

“Cas, look!  Wait, wait, wait.”

Dean grabbed Cas’ shoulders and spun him around, pushing him towards a mirror in the library.

“Okay, now look!” Dean exclaimed, “Just like an angel’s!  …Are you an angel, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied with a hint of amusement.

“Oh my god,” Dean breathed, “I can’t even stop looking at them, they’re just so pretty and—“

Then Dean stopped, suddenly focusing on his own reflection.  Cas glanced at Dean, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Why are there dots on my face?” Dean asked flatly.

Sam started laughing again, even Cas snorted at Dean.

“No, seriously!  Why are there dots on my face?!” Dean panicked, “What the hell are they?!  Are they snipers?”

“They’re not—“ Cas started.

“Why do snipers wanna kill me, Cas?  There’s so many of them, what did I do?!” Dean yelled.

Sam almost doubled over at his brother’s distress over his freckles.

“They aren’t snipers,” Cas said as calmly as possible.

“Then what the hell are they?!” Dean squawked.

"Freckles."

“Freckles?” Dean repeated, “Why do I have them?”

“Because—“

Cas stopped when Dean grabbed his face and made him look in every direction.  Cas swallowed, trying to ignore the rosy blush creeping on his cheeks as Dean inspected every inch of skin.

“What the hell?  Why don’t you have any?” Dean asked.

He released Cas’ face and turned back to his reflection.  He turned his head every way, much like he’d made Cas do, and his eyes darted from freckle to freckle.  He tugged at his shirt collar and saw they disappeared lower.

“Am I sick?!” Dean barked, panic rising again.

He grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, exposing his smooth and freckled torso.  Cas tensed up, pupils dilating slightly.

“Oh my god, they’re everywhere…!” Dean gasped.

Dean twisted around to look at his back in the reflection.  Cas shifted his weight, looking away from Dean and taking a deep breath to calm himself. 

“They’re all over me!” Dean exclaimed, “Sam, you went to college.  Where the hell’d these come from?”

Sam, who had collapsed into a chair laughing, lifted his head from his hand.  He gasped a few times, licking his lips and stifling his laughter.  He flicked his eyes over to Cas and saw the flustered look all over him.  Sam snorted a couple more laughs before he could answer.

“I— I’ve heard they come from angel kisses,” Sam managed to edge out.

Cas nearly broke his neck with how quickly he snapped his head towards Sam.  Sam lost it again at the sight of Cas trying to shoot him an intimidating glare through a school-girl blush.  Dean’s jaw fell open as he stared at Cas.

“Oh my god, Cas have you been kissing me all over?” Dean asked.

“What?  No, Dean, I— I would never—!”

Cas’ words dried up in his mouth, leaving him to just shake his head frantically in denial.  For a moment, Dean looked offended.  Then he closed his mouth, eyebrows drawing up together and eyes glistening with the start of tears.

“Why not?” Dean mumbled, “Am I not pretty enough to kiss, like you?”

Cas worked his mouth helplessly, glancing from Dean to Sam.  The younger Winchester was busy trying to stay up-right in his chair as he gasped for air.  Cas scowled at Sam, though he’d probably be laughing at Dean’s strange behavior as well if he wasn’t currently in the hot seat.

“Dean—“

Cas clamped his mouth shut upon seeing Dean looking at the mirror and fumbling with his belt buckle.  He felt his face heat up impossibly more. 

“What’re you doing?” Cas asked tightly.

“I wanna see how far they go.”

Dean said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  Cas knew he should stop Dean from further embarrassing himself, Sam would end up with this on video as well.  But he found himself rooted in place.  Dean pulled his belt out and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants.  And briefs.  Cas could feel pinpricks of sweats forming.

Sam saw what Dean was about to do and dropped his phone as he bolted from his chair.  Dean hadn’t slide his clothes more than an inch before Sam was grabbing his wrists and pulling them away.  Cas was both relieved and annoyed by Sam for that.

“I think that’s enough,” Sam breathed another laugh.

“But I wanna see!” Dean objected.

He wretched himself out of Sam’s grip and went for his pants again.

“Dean, wait!” Sam barked, “Wouldn’t you rather see the, um…”

Dean looked at him curiously.  Sam tried to think of something interesting in the bunker, but being that he wasn’t high, that was a little hard to do.

“The gun range…?” Sam tried with a smile.

“We have a gun range?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.”

Dean’s face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

“Where?!”

Sam stepped aside and swung his arm in the direction of the gun range.  Dean ran off in that direction, leaving Sam and Cas behind.  Sam took a few deep breaths, trying to quiet the laughter that threatened to rise up again.  He picked up his phone, checking to make sure he hadn’t broken it and pressed ‘stop’ on the recording.

“Sam, what are you going to do with that?” Cas asked quietly.

“Have a lot of fun watching it and black mail you and Dean,” Sam grinned.

“I don’t suppose I could ask you to delete that…”

“You could, but I’m not going to,” Sam smirked.

He turned and headed towards the gun range, or wherever Dean ended up, leaving Cas alone in the library.  Cas narrowed his eyes where Sam had gone.

That video file wouldn’t make it through the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was woken up a few hours later by a throbbing headache.  He groaned and buried his head further into the pillow in hopes it would stop sooner, but the throbbing intensified and was then accompanied by an ache in his jaw.  He whined and clutched at the pillow before giving up with a huff.  He sat up, momentarily aggravating the throbbing pain and causing the room to tilt on its side.  He wavered a bit and put a hand out to stop himself from falling over.

He glanced over at the small night stand to see a folded up paper held down by a glass of water and two pill bottles.  Curiously, he leaned over and tugged the paper out carefully from beneath the glass.  He unfolded the paper to find the printed instructions of post op care.  Dean rolled his eyes and was about to flick it aside when he noticed a hand-written note.  He stared at the writing, more focused on figuring out who wrote it rather than what it said.

His mind was slow to identify it; it wasn’t Sam’s, he knew that much.  For a brief second, he thought maybe one of the assistants or surgeon had written it, but this was familiar.

Castiel.  Obviously.

He shook his head, berating himself for not connecting the dots sooner.  But the motion sent the room on its side once again.  Dean fell to his elbow and pinched the bridge of nose with a hiss, becoming acutely aware of the waded gauze in his mouth.  He pushed at the wads on either with tongue, curling his lip in disgust.  He tipped his head down and spit the blood and saliva soaked cloths into his hand.  He cringed as a shiver ran down his spine at the slimy feeling.  He was quick to get to his feet and hurry over to the garbage to throw them away. 

Dean almost wiped his hand on his pants, but rethought the action and went to the bathroom.  As he washed his hands, he decided that had to be on similar level to witches spewing their bodily fluids.  Just gross.  He dried his hands off and picked up the paper to read Castiel’s note as he walked back to his bed.

_Dean—_

_One of the assistants recommended that you take ibuprofen and Tylenol as an alternative to the prescription.  She said to alternate them, taking one of them every three hours.  It is the same effect as the narcotic, but without making you like you were earlier._

_—Cas tiel_

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion at the space in Castiel’s name; it was like he’d considered leaving it ‘Cas’, but then decided against it.  He shrugged and picked up the bottle of Tylenol.  He dumped a few small pills in his hand.  They were the coated ones which, in his opinion, tasted far better.  He wondered if Castiel had known that.  Dean popped them in his mouth and took a quick drink of water.  As soon as the liquid hit his tongue, he realized how dry and hot his mouth felt, then downed the rest of the water.

He looked at the paper once more, scanning over it for anything important.  He caught _‘throbbing sensation’_ and read the small paragraph.  The throbbing sensation was caused by his head being too low relative to his heart, which continued to pump just as strongly as before, but with the open wounds in his mouth, It would cause an aching pain.  The simple solution was just to elevate his head.  Dean scoffed and tossed the paper back on his night stand; he was standing now, problem solved.

He walked out of his room and started down the hallway, thinking about the last part of Castiel’s note.  He wondered how loopy he’d gotten, if it similar to when he got drunk of if he’d gone full David-after-dentist.  He wrinkled his nose, not knowing which was worse.

Dean rounded the corner, passing the library and catching a glimpse of Castiel reading a book.  He grunted a ‘hey, Cas’ as he continued on towards the kitchen.  Castiel perked up and closed his book, following after Dean.  He frowned slightly when he saw Sam in the kitchen making himself a meal; phone in hand.  He’d tried pleading with Sam to delete the video and when that had failed, he tried taking the small device from him when he wasn’t looking.  That too had failed.  Aside from force, Castiel’s only hope was that Sam would keep it too himself.

“Hey, Dean.  Glad you survived the snipers.”

So much for that hope. 

Dean stopped and blinked, trying to process what his brother had just said.

“Survive the…  What?”

“The snipers,” Sam replied simply.

Sam grinned into his coffee and slid Castiel a mischievous look as he took a drink.  Dean stared at him as if he’d started speaking in tongues.  Sam offered him no explanation, he just waited for a response.  Dean scowled in confusion and turned to Castiel.

“What is he saying?” Dean asked.

“He’s asking if you survived the snipers,” Castiel ground out.

“The hell does that mean?”

“It’s a reference to your drug-induced state earlier today.”

“What do snipers have to do with anything?”

“You believed your freckles were the laser sights of snipers aiming at you.”

“That’s just stupid,” Dean grumbled.

Sam sputtered in his coffee, earning a suspicious and concerned glance from Dean and a warning look from Castiel.

“You alright there?” Dean asked.

“I’m great.  I just, uh, remembered—“ Sam snickered, “I was just remembering— everything.”

He tried to stifle a fit of laughter as he turned his attention to his phone.  Castiel took a step closer to him, prompting him to clutch it close to his chest and lean away from the angel.

“You took a video,” Dean realized.

“Yeah, I did,” Sam nodded with a laugh.

“How bad was I?  David after dentist?  Or that chick rapping about J.C. in the house?” Dean pressed.

“Who?” Castiel asked.

“Other people doped up after their wisdom teeth, I’ll show ya later,” Dean dismissed.

He strode over to Sam and took the phone from him.  Sam offered no resistance, instead only reaching over to hit play and turn the volume up. 

Dean snorted at his own stupidity of not remembering the bunker as he stumbled through it and yelling for Castiel to come see it.  The video lulled for a moment, until Castiel appeared on the screen.  Then Dean’s eyes widened slightly as he watched himself fawn over Castiel’s eyes.  He just kept fawning over them.  Dean chanced a glance up at the angel to see him pointedly staring at the floor between them.  Then he heard himself mention dots on his face.  He breathed a quiet sigh of relief; the embarrassment was over.

Then he understood why Sam had asked him about the snipers when he came in.  It was stupid, like he’d thought, but it was kind of funny.  More funny when he checked Castiel for them, even still when he panicked.  This wasn’t too bad.  As he demanded Sam tell him where the freckles came from, Dean glanced up to Castiel.  He was still staring at the floor.

_“I— I’ve heard they come from angel kisses.”_

Dean’s eyes snapped down to the screen.  Now he was asking if Castiel had been kissing him.  His eyes went wide again as he persisted to know if Castiel had been kissing and why he hadn’t been.  Dean felt his face heat up in embarrassment as he drags his eyes from the screen back to Castiel.  Castiel shifted awkwardly and Dean could see a blush crawling across his face.

_“What’re you doing?”_

Dean flinched at Castiel’s voice from the phone.  He watched himself on-screen start to undo his belt, bent on seeing how far his freckles went, and pleaded silently that someone stopped him before he bared his ass to his brother and angel. 

Thankfully, Sam had stopped him.  The video carried on a few seconds longer, then returned to its thumbnail with a ‘play’ icon.  Dean clenched his jaw, quickly igniting a throbbing ache in his jaw.  He tapped the garbage can in the upper corner and ‘yes’ before Sam could even object.  As soon as Sam heard the small discard noise, he stopped his laughter and dropped his mouth open.

“Did you just delete that?!”

Castiel afforded himself a small, tight smile.

“It wasn’t that great,” Dean replied as nonchalantly as he could.

“Dude, yes it was!”

Sam snatched his phone back, tapping away at the screen and muttering something about a cloud as Dean stalked out of the room.  Like before, Castiel followed him.  Dean retreated back to the library, far enough away from Sam that he wouldn’t have to worry about him.  Then he spun on his heels and opened his mouth.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Castiel spoke.

“I— What?  No, man, I’m sorry.  I don’t know what happened, I just…”

“You were drugged.  It is not your fault,” Castiel said, “I should be the one apologizing.  I could’ve flushed the drugs from your system before you…”

“Embarrassed the crap outta myself?” Dean finished.

“Yes, that,” Castiel nodded, “If you prefer it, I can act as though it didn’t happen.  Even erase the memory from both your minds.”

“No, that’s— Shit happens, it’s not the most embarrassing thing I’ve done,” Dean breathed.

He was sure it wasn’t, but he was having trouble at the moment remembering something that could top this.

“Would you prefer that I just carry on?”

Dean eyed him for a second.  That was an odd question, Castiel knew taunting and jeering was common when someone did something stupid.  Unless—

“You don’t think it’s funny,” Dean thought aloud.

“There was some humor,” Castiel defended.

“No, you think it’s about as funny as I do,” Dean continued, “You’re embarrassed too.  Did— Did that hit a nerve?”         

“Truthfully, yes.  But as I said, I can carry on as if this didn’t happen.”

Dean opened and closed his mouth, swallowing and debating his next choice of words.  He studied Castiel’s face, the angel doing his best to keep his stoic, neutral face.  But he could see it in his eyes, his _so blue_ and _beautiful eyes_ , that there was a torrent of anxiousness and cautious hopefulness.

“No, you can, uh…”

The look in Castiel’s eyes elevated as his body tensed.

“It’s okay,” Dean said, “You can, um… Drugs just make you do or say—”

The hope in Castiel’s eyes diminished and his shoulders sagged.  Dean cursed himself mentally, minutely curling his lip.

“They— They make you say things that you’re, uh, already thinking or whatever,” Dean blurted.

Castiel’s lips parted in surprise.

“No big deal, man,” Dean added quickly.

He patted Castiel on the shoulder as he made a hasty exit from the library, leaving behind a stunned angel.  As the hunter disappeared from sight, Castiel felt his body lighten and his wings shudder with joy. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sequel request:  Can you make a second chapter to wise no more,were sam shows dean(after the drugs were off)the blackmail video,and Cas is sitting in the corner blushing?thanks!   
> kudos for this anon! any more sequel requests to this fic and several others are welcome on [my tumblr](http://leo-arcana.tumblr.com/ask)! fics open to sequels are listed on my tumblr as well, click on 'my fics'

**Author's Note:**

> [the prompt](http://thoriinsacorn.tumblr.com/post/83095079333)  
>  (too long to type it all out)  
> i tried to make it funny, hopefully it worked :D


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